When they exhausted the topic of the red, crunchy fruit, their conversation switched to the presumably English knight who had claimed to kill four Hetheringtons with no help from anyone else.
“Is he handsome or hideous? Millie asked, rubbing her swollen belly from where she sat on a small rock and dipped her toes in the river.
Lucy laughed softly behind her fingertips.
The girls were coy and ladylike, appealing to a part of Braya she missed when she was raiding, or besting the men. She had even changed into her stay and skirts while she was with them. She’d known the two her whole life and loved them like sisters. Millie was married to Will Noble and was expecting their first babe any day now.
Braya didn’t want there to be fighting and bloodshed when Millie was delivering her babe.
“He is not unpleasing to the eye,” she told them, stretched across a large rock. Her eyes were closed against the sun. Her thoughts filled with the memory of him looking at her when the warden had given her no notice.
In contrast to his dark golden brows flaring upward, his wintery green eyes were large and dipped downward on the outer corners. Together, they made his gaze sultrier, more alluring. His soft, silken curls were like a halo of chestnut and gold around his head. “He is arrogant and unrepentant.”
“What will your father decide?” Millie asked with worry lacing her voice.
“I think he will do the best thing for all, and that is to take revenge on Sir Torin and count the misdeed settled.”
“But what if you are correct,” Lucy put to her. “What if our cousins robbed Carlisle’s soldiers? What if Sir Torin was just protecting them as he and Mr. Adams claim?”
Braya knew that was a possibility. She wondered how she could discover the truth. She couldn’t think of anything and opened her eyes to turn her gaze toward home. What if the warden’s newest guard was innocent of murder? What should they do then? There was no law against it, but all reivers looked down upon killing innocent men. Her family would lose all support. “I cannot let my father gather the Hetheringtons for a battle at Carlisle. They will never believe the knight’s tale.”
She remained with her friends for another hour spent worrying. When she’d had enough, she returned home for her sword and her bow and quiver of arrows, and set off on her own across the shallow river for a little hunting.
Distracted by chasing hares, she traveled farther on foot than she had intended and almost stumbled into a small, sunlit clearing within the thicket. Alone in the clearing was a most breathtaking horse. A kind of horse Braya had never seen before.
Keeping just beyond the tree line, she barely breathed, afraid she might be dreaming this magnificent being. It was huge. Braya thought if she stood beside it, her head would barely reach the top of the creature’s back. It was white with splotches of rich chestnut brown from its nose to its behind. Its long, opulent mane and thick flowing tail were pure white—as were the tufts of hoary hair covering its hooves.
Braya left the cover of the trees and walked slowly toward the horse. It was saddled. To whom did it belong? She didn’t care. She’d like to take it. Oh, to ride such a magnificent animal!
She inched closer and held out her hand just as the horse turned its regal head and stared off to her right.
Braya lowered her hand and followed its gaze to a man standing alone on the other side of the glade. Sir Torin Gray! He hadn’t seen her!
She reached for her sword. She could sneak up on him and…what was he doing bending to smell a flower? He brought his fingers to the blossom and lifted it closer. He closed his eyes and breathed as if the fragrance were bringing him back to life. Free of his hood, his sun-kissed curls fell loosely around his face, accentuating the strong cut of his slightly bearded jaw. The sight of him beguiled Braya senseless.
What in the blazes was the matter with her? This man had killed her cousins. Unless he had a good reason, he was an enemy.
The horse blew out a loud breath and neighed.
The knight’s eyes opened and went directly to his mount…and to Braya standing beside it. He lifted his hand over his left shoulder and clasped the hilt of his blade beneath his mantle. In an instant, he went from glorious in the late sunlight, to graceful and deadly.
She wasn’t sure she could fight him with a knife. If he truly had taken down four men on his own, she didn’t want to try. She released her hilt and held up her hands.
“Miss Hetherington,” he said, pulling his sword from its sheath anyway. He looked around for anyone else. “You are alone?”
Her spine stiffened. What would he try if he thought she was? “No,” she lied. “My group is close by. My brother is likely searching for me right now.”
He did his best to conceal his amusement, but she caught the slight curl of his full mouth. He didn’t believe her. “Well, he shall find you in safe hands.”
Braya tried to slow her thrashing heart. It was making her feel lightheaded. What should she do? What was he going to do? Why was she standing around doing nothing? She’d killed before, but those men were trying to kill her during a raid. This was different. What if this man had just been in the wrong place at a bad time? What if he had told the truth and he’d come upon five men attacking the border guards? She’d still prefer that he died rather than any of her kinsmen, but she didn’t want it done if he was innocent of murder. She pushed her mantle aside and touched the hilt of her sword again. His gaze immediately followed. “What are you doing so far from the castle, Gray?” she asked.
He kept his eyes on her hand. “I was having a look around, trying to get to know Cumberland. I wandered off too far.” He finally lifted his gaze to hers. She wished he hadn’t. His eyes were mesmerizing and…melancholy. They drew her into a place she did not wish to go. “Please, call me Torin.”
He came a bit closer, tempting Braya to step back. He was too close to shoot with an arrow. Did she want to pretend she couldn’t fight? So often men had misjudged her, as Sir Torin was doing by re-sheathing his sword. Most of her opponents bore scars from her blades for it. What had the other soldiers told him about her? No matter. If he tried anything, she’d castrate him faster than he could blink.
“How about you, Miss Hetherington?” he asked. His voice was like the song of a siren, beguiling, with a subtle undercurrent of something melodious. “What are you…and your group doing so far from the border?”
How far was she from home? She thought about it and drew in a small bit of her bottom lip between her teeth. “We were hunting. We wandered off too far, as well.”
